


Smoking

by alessandralee



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Firefighters, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-11
Updated: 2015-03-11
Packaged: 2018-03-17 10:06:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3525185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alessandralee/pseuds/alessandralee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jemma should probably be more worried about the small fire in her apartment, but there's a certain fightfighter taking up more of her focus.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Smoking

So much for a relaxing day off, Jemma thinks to herself as she takes in the scene surrounding her.

And so much for her newly cleaned kitchen, her reputation as an ideal roommate, and probably her deposit on the apartment.

And to make matters worse, her stomach won’t stop growling.

Angrily, Jemma tries to smother the flames threatening to sneak out of her stove with a dishtowel. She can hear the smoke alarm going off, but she’s too embarrassed to face the neighbors she’s almost certainly inconvenienced.

And besides, it’s not like the fire’s spreading quickly; it’s barely even left her oven. Maybe she can get it out before the first department arrives. 

(The logical part of her knows she can’t put it out in time, even before she hears the wailing of approaching sirens. The small but frustrated part of brain must be overriding all rational thought.)

She can hear the boots on the stairs, and opts to open the apartment door, rather than risk them trying to knock it down.

She doesn’t even realize how much smoke has accumulated in the room until it’s billowing out the door.

Strong arms lift her up and deposit her in the hallway, before they return to her apartment to deal with the oven fire.

He probably assumes that she’ll make her way outside to join the rest of the building’s tenants, but Jemma is too concerned about what’s happening in her apartment. Skye will be pissed if something happens to her laptop. Hopefully it’s either tucked away somewhere in her bedroom, or Skye took it to work with her.

Besides, Jemma’s inhaled plenty of potentially toxic fumes in her line of work, a little smoke is nothing.

(That’s a lie, she’s very careful when it comes to the potentially dangerous substances she frequently handles. If she was thinking clearly, she’d probably realize that the smoke has gotten to her head.)

No one comes out to check on her, though, so Jemma takes a seat at the end of the hall, leaning against the door of the apartment belonging to Melinda May, the quiet woman who sometimes stops by with takeout when she thinks Jemma and her roommates have been skipping meals in favor of doing more work.

Jemma passes the time by doing a mental evaluation of all the things in the apartment that could be destroyed by fire, starting in the kitchen and working out to the communal living room, then Fitz’s, her, and Skye’s bedrooms. She really hopes the fire doesn’t spread too far, she owns a lot of stuff she’d hate to lose.

Her head has cleared and she’s trying to guess the value of Skye’s extensive computer setup (does insurance cover technology that get used for less than legal practices?) when one of the firefighters exits her apartment.

He’s heading to the stairs, but must notice her in her peripheral vision (what little he must have with that mask on), because he abruptly changes direction and heads towards her.

Stopping in front of her, he pulls off his helmet and mask. Even with sweaty hair and red cheeks, it’s hard for Jemma to miss how attractive he is. He doesn’t look particularly friendly, but the dark-eyed, severe thing works really well for him. It’s probably the cheekbones. Cheekbones make everything work.

“Ma’am, you shouldn’t be in the building,” he addresses her.

Internally, she balks at being called ma’am, but she ignores it. Quickly, she scrambles to her feet, then asks “How’s my apartment? Is there a lot of damage?”

“That’s you’re apartment?” he points backwards toward her door as though there’s some other apartment fire and he needs to differentiate.

She nods, slightly distracted as she tries to figure out if whatever is hiding under his uniform is as attractive as what little she can see above it. He might have called her ma’am, but she’s not opposed to taking the opportunity to prove otherwise.

Fitz would probably think this is inappropriate timing, what with her potentially losing her home over an oven fire that started before she even put the food in. But Jemma’s always been a good multi-tasker, she can panic and appraise at the same time.

“Well you’re stove’s destroyed, some of the cabinets near is will need to be replaced, and there’s some smoke damage in the kitchen and living room. Aside from that, though, it wasn’t too bad,” he tells her. “Could have been a lot worse.”

That’s a relief. She won’t be homeless, and she won’t have to deal with two friends who blame her for making them homeless. Now she can focus on important things, like figuring out if this fireman has a body like the ones in the calendar her co-worker, Bobbi, keeps in her office.

“Oh good,” she says. “Thank you for letting me know, sir.” She pauses, realizing she doesn’t know if there’s an official title for firefighters. “Officer?” she tries. “Mister Firefighter?”

He chuckles, “Grant is fine. Grant Ward.” He pulls the glove off of his right hand and holds it out to shake.

As she takes his hand in hers, a voice in her mind that sounds suspiciously like Skye’s says, ‘Yes, Grant certainly is fine.’

Clearly living with Skye means the other woman’s love for innuendo has rubbed off on Jemma.

“Jemma Simmons,” she introduces herself.

“Well Ms. Simmons,” he says, which is certainly a step up from ma’am, “I’m afraid you won’t be able to move back in until at least tomorrow, the smoke needs to time air out. But if you’d like, I can escort you in to grab anything you need. A phone, any other electronics, maybe some pants,” he averts his eyes from hers.

Jemma looks down at her bare legs, momentarily embarrassed. Then she shrugs it off. Generally, she does wear pants around the apartment, Fitz complains when she doesn’t. But with no one home but her that morning, she hadn’t bothered. She has nice legs, and she’s more covered than she would be on a beach.

“That explains why I’m so cold,” she jokes.

Grant smiles hesitantly, but is careful to keep his eyes trained on her face.

“Shall we go then?” she asks, stepping in front of him to lead the way back to her apartment.

Jemma makes sure to put a little extra swing in her step, and she’s not surprised when she can feel his eyes fall towards (then away from, then back towards) her ass.

Fitz would tell her she’s shameless, but who needs shame when you’re trying to get a hot guy’s phone number.


End file.
